


Cupid's Arrow Hurts A Helluva Lot Less Than A Bullet

by voidfoxstarlight



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Getting Together, Hospitals, Hurt Sam Winchester, Injured Sam Winchester, Kissing, M/M, Sam Winchester Gets Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidfoxstarlight/pseuds/voidfoxstarlight
Summary: Sam gets shot on a hunt and Spencer is there.





	Cupid's Arrow Hurts A Helluva Lot Less Than A Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first half of this fic like six months ago and completely forgot about it until now, and I'm not sure if people still ship them, but here it is.

It wasn’t Hotch’s fault. He didn’t know about ghosts, he didn’t know the bullet would go straight through it and hit Spencer. Spencer experienced half a second of  _ I’m about to be shot _ before Sam shouted, “Spencer!” and launched himself in front of him.

The impact of the bullets made Sam stumble back and crash to the floor, landing on Spencer in the process.

“Sammy!” shouted the man in the leather jacket.

Morgan tried to punch the ghost, but his fist went straight through her. She screeched in rage and Morgan flew into the wall.

Sam gasped, “The locket. Dean, the locket.”

Dean fumbled with a container of liquid, sprayed it all over the bloodied locket on the fireplace mantle, then lit his lighter and tossed it at the locket. It went up in flames, as did the screaming apparition.

Spencer wiggled out from under Sam and tore the curtains off the curtain rod. He ripped them into strips and pressed them onto Sam’s wounds as makeshift bandages. “Somebody call 911!”

Dean knelt next to them, grabbing some of the curtain bandages and started pushing them down on one of the other wounds. “Sammy? Can you hear me?”

“Dean,” Sam said. “Dean?” He peered up at Spencer through blurry eyes, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah, Dean’s here,” Spencer panted. “For God’s sake, someone call an ambulance!”

Sam lifted his hand towards Spencer’s face, brushing against his cheek. “What…” His arm flopped back down to his side.

Someone must have called 911, because the next thing he knew, paramedics were asking him to make room so they could get to Sam. He stood up, his arms shaking from putting so much pressure on Sam’s wounds.

“I need to go with him,” he said.

“Only family is allowed in the ambulance,” said one of the paramedics.

“I’m his boyfriend,” he blurted.

The paramedic shook their head. “Family only.”

Dean shouldered his way past him. “Meet us at the hospital.”

Spencer watched helplessly as the ambulance drove off, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Someone’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Reid.”

“I need to get to the hospital.”

Morgan spun him around. “Reid, you know those guys? Who are they, what were they doing here?”

“I’ll explain everything, I promise, but I need to get to the hospital.” Even he could hear the plea in his voice. “Please.”

Morgan let go of his shoulder. “All right.”

“Gideon, I’m gonna go with Reid to the hospital.”

“Hotch, go with them. I’ll try to figure out what the hell just happened here,” said Gideon.

Morgan got in the driver's seat, Spencer slid in shotgun, and Hotch got in back.

“All right, Reid, hit me,” said Morgan, pulling onto the main road.

“It was a ghost.”

“You shitting me?”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” said Hotch.

“Most people think that, yes, but ghosts do actually exist. People who are murdered or die violently, or leave behind unfinished business, often come back as a spiritual presence in order to get revenge on their murderer or fulfill tasks they left unfinished.”

“You sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light? Or a shared hallucination?”

“Morgan, it  _ threw you into a wall. _  Do you really think a trick of the light could accomplish that? And a shared hallucination among that many people is highly unlikely, if not entirely unheard of.”

“Maybe it was just a person dressed to look like a ghost. Designed to feed on our fears,” suggested Hotch.

“The bullet went straight through it and into Sam’s body,” said Spencer. “What more proof do you need?”

“Guys, we’re here,” interrupted Morgan.

“I’ll prove it later, I have to go,” said Spencer. He was out of the car before Morgan even pulled into a parking spot. He dashed into the lobby and looked around, searching for a sign of where Sam might be.

“Sir, are you looking for someone?” the receptionist asked. 

He hesitated; he didn’t know what alias Sam was using at the moment, and he didn’t want to give away his true identity.

“Hey,” someone shouted. “FBI dude!”

Spencer turned around; Dean was standing in the waiting area waving at him.

“No, but thanks anyway,” he told the receptionist and hurried over to Dean.

“They think he’s gonna be okay,” Dean said before Spencer could ask any questions. “They’re giving him some blood transfusions now, but one of the bullets got lodged in his shoulder, so they’re gonna do surgery to get it out.”

“But he’s going to be okay?”

“He’s going to be okay.”

Spencer exhaled harshly and covered his face with his hands. “Thank God.”

Dean snorted. “Don’t thank him, he didn’t do anything.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, you know Sam?”

“We met online, on an internet forum about mythological creatures a few years ago. He taught me about the supernatural world, and sometimes when my team gets a case that’s particularly strange, I send it to him so he can check it out.”

“You said you were his boyfriend.”

“I’d like to hear this, too,” interrupted Morgan. He and Hotch were standing behind Spencer, evidently having found a parking spot.

Spencer flushed bright red. “We’re not. I thought it would get the paramedics to let me ride with him. But we are very close friends.”

“He’s never mentioned you,” said Dean.

Spencer shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about you all that often, either. I think we’re each others escape from our daily lives.”

The four of them took turns bringing the others coffee in order to stay awake. In between coffees, Spencer continued explaining the existence of the supernatural to Morgan and Hotch. 

“And if you still don’t believe me, I can find someone to take you on a hunt,” Spencer finished.

“Wait,” interrupted Morgan. “That case in Florida a few months ago, that one where the mom thought the house was haunted - was that a real ghost?”

“Florida?” said Dean. “You mean Marjorie Simmons?”

“That was a real ghost,” Spencer confirmed. “I called Sam and told him about after we left. He and Dean took care of it.”

Morgan looked like his whole world had just been crushed - which, essentially, it had.

“And you and your brother are - what, exactly?” asked Hotch. “Supernatural PIs?”

“We’re hunters,” said Dean. “We keep an eye out for weird stuff in the news, hunt it down, and then usually we gank it.”

“Usually?”

“Not everything supernatural is bad. Sam and I got a buddy who’s a werewolf, he and his wife live entirely off animal hearts; never killed a person once.”

“So - ghosts, werewolves, what else is there?” asked Morgan.

“Everything except unicorns and Bigfoot, basically.”

While Morgan and Hotch interrogated Dean on all things supernatural, Spencer made and drank several pots of coffee and paced nervously around the waiting room.

After what seemed like an eternity, a nurse stepped into the lobby and said, “Mr. Wesson? Your brother is awake.”

Dean went into Sam’s room first. He stayed there for about five minutes while Spencer waited impatiently in the hallway. Finally, Dean came out and said, “He’s asking for you.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He burst into the room, and there was Sam: tired, in pain, but decidedly alive.

“That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” he blurted out. “You could have  _ died _ .”

Sam’s smile was soft. “Hey, Spence.”

Spencer huffed and hugged him, being careful not to further aggravate his wound. “You’re impossible. I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Me, too.” Sam pulled back a bit in order to look Spencer in the eye. “So… boyfriend?”

Spencer’s cheeks reddened. “Did Dean tell you about that?”

Sam shook his head. “I heard you while I was on the gurney.”

“But you’d lost so much blood, how were you even conscious?”

Sam shrugged. “I’ve been more conscious after worse.”

“I don’t even want to ask.”

Sam laughed and held Spencer’s hand. “I wouldn’t be upset if you did feel that way about me, you know.”

Spencer’s head shot up. “You wouldn’t?”

Sam shook his head.

“Would you welcome it, or… just tolerate it?”

Sam’s voice went quiet. “Welcome it.” He let go of Spencer’s hand to caress his face. “You have blood on your cheek.”

“It’s probably yours.”

“Right. I’m going to kiss you, now.”

Kissing Sam was better than Spencer had ever imagined (even if Sam was in desperate need of some chapstick). The broke apart slowly, still savouring the taste of each other and the atmosphere of the moment.

“Perv,” Sam muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I meant Dean,” Sam explained. “He was watching us through the window in the door.”

“He’s gonna think I lied to him. I told him you weren’t my boyfriend.”

“If we both just stay in here forever, you’ll never have to face him,” Sam suggested.

“You know what? I think I like that plan.”


End file.
